As the Dust Settles
by analise17
Summary: Post Avengers, posted here because it's basically pre-Lokane. Jane Foster just wanted to find a coffee maker on the Helicarrier, but instead all she found was Loki. (Note: this only works because SHIELD is OOC. just… go with it, ok?). Could be cannon compliant or not. Rated T just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

_I own nothing. Thanks to Shipperwolf for the awesome story "Defeat" (seriously guys, go check it out), thymus on tumblr and Brett Munro for the picture that inspired this story: thymus . tumblr post / 26217382934 and Thy Frozen Lightening for the graphic._

* * *

Jane had gotten bored, then thirsty, then she'd gotten lost. Honestly all she was looking for was the coffee maker – _any_ coffee maker – but several wrong turns and her dislike of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had her avoiding all of the staff rather cagily (and probably all of the coffee). The lack of signage didn't help. Still, she knew she was far from the guest quarters when she saw the barred cells. How did she end up in the Helicarrier brig?

Then again this was the sole person of her generation she'd met with a Ph. D. who couldn't figure out how to change her ring tone. Still, there had to be a post around here and that's where the coffee would be; it's not like they'd taken many prisoners with the battle in New York; which might explain why there weren't any guards on staff.

A stirring deeper in the brig caught her notice and she heard metal dragging and jingling which drew her deeper down the hallway to the very last cell.

Standing as far away as possible to just barely see around the angle of the solid side wall Jane Foster tried to reconcile what was before her. _What the…?_

A solitary figure was kneeling dejectedly on the bare floor; shoulders slumped, messy, long hair hung lank, obscuring most of the face besides a pale nose and forehead. The black clothing and pitch black locks almost obscured the person entirely with the dark grey walls in the dim lighting. He was obviously male and by his torso tall, but he seemed a study in pity sculpted out of obsidian and marble. The prisoner didn't move but to breathe shallowly.

Confused, she stepped closer to realize that a metal adorned strap wound around his face, blending into his hair and clothes, and that his arms had been secured behind his back a chain leading away: he was cuffed and muzzled while tethered to something deeper in the cell.

He looked like a wolf trapped for the slaughter.

One step nearer revealed the very familiar object said person was chained to: Mjolnir.

With a whisper her mind reminded her that there was only one prisoner taken and in panic she tried to silently retreat, and failed.

The scuff of her boot clad clumsy feet echoed in the stillness, bringing a wince to her face and causing her to freeze. In the same instant Thor's Brother, Loki Odinson of Asgard jolted upright and strained against his fetters only to quickly settle at the sight of her.

Lurid green eyes tried to vivisect her from afar but the tension around them bespoke concealed pain. His shallow breathing had sped up to pants stuffed through his nose and he tore his gaze away to and studiously regarded his bare surroundings.

Jane wasn't a fool; He was injured, badly. And left alone untreated even though he was Thor's brother. Plus he looked awful.

Glancing around she noticed that not only was there no one around but that the cell's door was unlatched or faulty as it was open several inches. Their faith in Mjolnir was warranted but it seemed unnecessarily cruel and altogether foolish. But looking around at the other cell's she could see the brig circuitry must have been damaged in the fight. All the cell's doors hung open; but he was placed back here to be forgotten.

Forcing her muscles to relax she said the first thing that came to mind. "That thing can't be comfortable;" she gestured to the tightly fitted mouthpiece. "Do you want me to remove it, at least for a little while?" Mentally she kicked herself. _What are you thinking Jane?_

He regarded her carefully for a moment; not unlike a wary panther. With a glint in his eye he nodded, relaxing on his heels.

She wasn't amused. Jet lagged and caffeine deprived wasn't a good combination for her logic or patience it seemed. Drawing closer she entered the cell but stayed at the door. "If you try anything it goes right back in. Otherwise I call the guards. Fair?"

Again, he nodded, this time with almost sincerity in his eyes.

"Don't make me regret this." She muttered as she carefully closed the distance. Standing right in front of him her fears were allayed but her heart was hurting. Thick shackles imbued with runes circled his wrists and secured them together tightly behind his back. His legs – her previous worst concern – had been wrapped in similar chains and also fastened to the mighty hammer. The trickster could barely move, let alone harm her.

He stayed still as a statue, eyes firmly fixed down as she came nearer. With a small "excuse me" she followed the muzzle's strange straps into his hair to find how it was secured.

She didn't want to go anywhere near his hands so she stayed in front of him despite the awkward position and bent gingerly over his shoulder. Finding where the ends met her small fingers examined it, carefully moved his hair away to get a better look; then, with a soft press from her finger the mechanism unlatched and she pulled it from his face.

Once his mouth was free she moved back quickly and he worked his jaw. His breathing relaxed, although still shallow he didn't need to measure it so carefully and she was relieved that she'd ease some of the discomfort and indignity – if only temporarily.

Now he studied her. After a moment he cleared his throat. "You have my thanks."

She nodded. Her behavior was ludicrous but at least he could breathe easier for a time. This close she could see the gory scratches on his face and despite his charming grin Jane could tell he held himself very carefully, but his scrutiny continued.

"How should I address you, Miss…?"

Her palms started to sweat. This was the Trickster, he lived to manipulate and she knew he must have been silenced for a reason. He was also the person who'd supposed threats had forced her to go into hiding with S.H.E.I.L.D. holding the leash. But as a scientist her own real weapon was facts – in a sense, truths.

So she decided to stick with her strengths, and anonymity. "I don't feel comfortable telling you my name."

"That is fair." He nodded, not at all surprised. "I can assume from your lack of uniform that you are not one of S.H.I.E.L.D's personnel but given the circumstances I can't image you are unaware of my actions nor can I fathom your reasons for helping me."

Jane just stood there, holding that awful piece of leather and metal. Just earlier that day her handlers had shepherded her straight to the carrier in unmarked vans without windows, veering from their previously designed destination, and although she'd yet to see the devastation of Manhattan she knew it had been catastrophic. "I'll admit I wasn't present. And while I know of you, I don't know you; that is to say – what do I call you?"

His lips gave a wry twist. "I had rather hoped for a different title but if you must call me something, call me Loki."

"Ok." But Jane didn't have the guts to use it. Instead she braved ahead hoping she wouldn't be made to look entirely foolish. "To answer your question, despite what you've done I see no reason for you not to be treated humanely."

He gave her a sly smile. "But I'm not human, and according to most my actions indeed make me undeserving."

Jane shrugged. "But I am – human, I mean. Was I in a similar place I'd hope for a bit of kindness, if nothing else." He waited for more, eyes shifting like he was uncomfortable. The silence stretched on, jangling her nerves, loosening her tongue. "But then I usually feel guilty for flushing a goldfish."

"Pray tell, what is a goldfish and how does one flush it?" It seems that was preferred topic to morality; not that she minded.

"Well," gosh this was asinine; but then it wasn't like she was giving away state secrets. "It's a small orange fish that people keep as pets, when a pet fish dies usually humans dispose of it through the sanitation system."

Loki cocked his head to the side. "Do you often buy pets just to dispose of them?"

She told herself not to blush. "I stopped buying them because I forgot to feed them."

"Ah." He eyed the corner, and cleared his throat again. "Then it's best I'm not in your care for long. Besides, I'm a little large to fit down the toilet."

Utterly confused she fumbled "wha-?"

The glint that had come to his eyes with the muzzle's removal unfurled into a wide grin at his joke. She shook her head trying to hide her smile. She could see how alike he was to Thor – charming, self-assured and playful. Where had the other side come from, when had the arrogant, superior-complex, world-domination part of his personality been brought in to play? Was his experience during Thor's absence just as altering? Because back then, Thor had seemed mystified by his brother's actions as well and that was more disconcerting than ever. Questions she didn't have the nerve to ask ran circles inside her head.

Wetting her lips she cast her eyes around the dismal place. He was tied too tightly to the hammer to use the bunk – not that she could move him – but there was a small sink and a plastic tumbler next to it.

Looking back at him she saw his eyes had followed her own. "Would you like a drink?"

"Yes, but water will have to do." He smirked.

Moving sideways she placed the muzzle on the bunk, careful to keep it face up. She tried her hand at a joke to see how he'd react. "Sorry I don't have access to the wine list."

He huffed, and then gave a sharp intake of breath. Obviously laughing hurt. "Would you call yours a refined pallet?"

Turning the tap she checked the temperature. Not too bad, slightly cool like anywhere else on the carrier. Keeping him in the corner of her eye she filled the tumbler. "Not in the least. I try to stay away from the stuff. It's kinda hard to work with a hangover, plus my nightlife is full of rather different activities than most people."

She cringed. That hadn't sounded bad in her head, but Jane was trying to be vague. He seemed to let it slide, probably because he was thirsty.

This was more complicated. She couldn't help him drink from three feet away. He gave her a toothy grin as her feet had slowed and stopped just out of reach. "I promise not to bite."

A small smile found its way to her lips. Drawing a bit closer she extended her arm, trying to ignore the intimacy his vulnerable position gave.

Eagerly his lips met the rim and she tilted, letting him drink. Due to his shallow breaths she stopped more than once to let him catch his wind but he drained the glass and asked for another.

Once the second was finished he sagged, his movement jangling the chains and shook his head at her offer for a third. "Once again," he looked up through his lashes rather than raising his head. "My thanks."

This whole time she'd kept an ear out for any passersbys, but the Helicarrier was suspiciously low on staff. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Perhaps." He seemed to be getting tired.

"Why are you in the brig like this?" she indicated his chains "I can't believe S.H.E.I.L.D. doesn't have better options than using an alien hammer to restrain people."

"Ah, yes. Their more impressive accommodations were no longer available so I was told to make do. I used that cage on my brother earlier." She tried not to stiffen but Jane had a feeling that he'd seen it. Loki shifted, trying to get more comfortable. "It seems my actions wore their patience thin by being too effective and damaged their pride, hence how you find me."

He tried for a winning smile but it shifted to a grimace and tried vainly to shift away. It was rather impossible.

She grasped the tumbler she'd never returned in both hands. "Look, you're obviously in some …discomfort." That got his attention, his eyes shrewdly meeting her's. "A-and I can't treat anything major but," she took a breath; this was probably stepping over a line further than she'd ever intended "I passed a first aid kit in the hall. If nothing else I can clean up your face."

Her offer dangled in the air between them; his face utterly blank, until his tone cut the air. "I apologize for assaulting your sensibilities with my marred visage; if it's such a strain perhaps you should return to more friendly environs."

 _Wow mood swing. "_ That's not it. I know nothing about alien physiology but everything has a limit. Plus it seems it could be some time before …"

He picked up her sentence "anyone remembers me?"

She sighed, "Before you are attended to." That seemed to mollify him somewhat.

Faced with that reality he seemed to return to better humors. "If you are so inclined" he agreed airily to the cell wall, which seemed to release her feet. Setting the cup on the sink she turned to retrieve the case mounted in the hall. The corridor was still eerily empty and she knew she was pressing her luck, or someone had orchestrated this. Coming back with the small kit she found him, of course, unmoved.

As she bent down he stopped her "might I suggest using the blanket?"

"Wouldn't you prefer it instead?" She glanced at his own knees on the hard floor.

"Undoubtedly, however should you want to avoid suspicion any marks on your clothing would be contrary to that purpose."

Now _she_ regarded _him_ shrewdly. "Why the consideration?"

His answer was enigmatic, "Perhaps I hope to see you again should the circumstances permit."

Shaking her head she rose to pull off the scratchy wool blanket from the cot. Folded it, and then finally knelt. Something about his smarmy expression made his oncoming joke click and her anger made her bold "Don't even say it."

"Say what?" He was all eager innocence apart from that too-wide grin which betrayed him.

She leveled him with a glare even though she knew she was pushing it. "I saw what happened in Stuttgart. Not one word."

"Oh if you must" he huffed in false irritation.

Opening the case she took stock and started to lay out supplies. _This situation was all wrong, how could he …?_ She stopped herself. _What? Make light of hurting and terrifying others just because he thought himself a deity?_ Because she was pretty sure that vaulted viewpoint mixed with vain ambition were what landed him here, pummeled and incarcerated.

 _Despite losing_ , Jane realized, _he has no regrets_. She had to remind herself that if the circumstances were different she still would _not_ have found his actions amusing _or_ endearing, let alone in the present.

She refused to turn at his voice. "You're terribly quiet. I wouldn't think less of you for changing your mind; you've already done more than enough."

After Jan had hit Thor multiple times like an idiot and then the destruction in Puente Antiguo she and Darcy had taken a first aid class from the Red Cross in the neighboring town. Her education was extremely basic but it helped out from time to time; it also gave her the eye to read through all of his blustering: she assumed cracked ribs, internal bleeding or both, possibly a spine injury. She could tell he desperately needed medical attention far beyond her skills and found herself further ascribing to Erik's terms of S.H.E.I.L.D. Jack booted thugs seemed appropriate. He should be strapped to a gurney and sedated after being treated.

More questions piled up. Where the heck was Thor? Who leaves their brother like this?

Returning from her thoughts she answered him with a shake of her head. "I said I would and I will; trust me when I say it's the least I can do."

She sensed him stiffen again, but release it quickly. He was definitely hiding internal injuries and his locked position could only do further damage.

"No bandages." Her eyes flew to his, Loki gave a small smirk. "Let's remain circumspect."

"Makes sense." Jane answered with a huff and put away the butterfly sutures. Ripping open a sterile pad she dipped it in the mostly full water cup and turned to face him, steeling herself.

Once again Jane's shortness left her at a disadvantage, she had to raise up on her knees to see her work. His face had become a mask again with eyes staring over her left shoulder and that suited her just fine. In turn Jane chose to block out the moment's insanity and instead brushed back her hair to analyze his face with a critical eye.

It was a patchwork of scraps, cuts and bruises all starkly visible due to his pale complexion; each wound had dirt and dried blood still clinging to it that would need to be loosened and cleaned. Basically, he looked horrible. She decided to go top to bottom and began with a murmured "tell me if this hurts."

Her hands that built and soldered her own equipment were steady as she worked. Putting the least amount of pressure possible she treat each area, one hand on the floor to keep her balance; carefully pressing damp pads to saturate the old clots, then worked on cleaning grit and grime without aggravating each site to resume bleeding. She knew when she came to a particularly bad area as he'd hiss or hold his breath. But he never asked her to stop.

Some areas were inflamed with starting infections which she noted for later and the cut across his nose and below his lips extending to his chin were particularly gruesome. Above his right eye, on his left cheekbone and along his jaw were mottled with bruises and swollen which she treated carefully and avoided if possible. There were signs of healing but nothing like she'd seen with the other Asgardians after the fight with the Destroyer, it seemed his system was overwhelmed with his other injuries. Jane ripped open pad after pad, thankful for the kit's ample supply. There was even some left over when she got to his neck. Caught up in her task she bent to go under his chin to look for more but he evaded her by turning his head.

"Thank you, but that's well enough."

Jane blinked. She found herself right in his personal space, leaning over him – almost _in his lap_ – and backpedaled quickly, looking back to the kit. "Antiseptic?"

"What is that?" His voice held curiosity.

She uncapped the tub and slathered the ointment on a Q-tip. "It helps with infection, and some areas are starting to show signs of it."

"I doubt it would help an AEsir's …" Loki's voice drifted off and she covered for him.

"In my humble opinion it couldn't hurt. Same for the pain killers."

Her opinion was met with a snort. "You truly have nothing better to do it seems. Fine, I acquiesce."

His hiss at its contact told her he regretted it. " _Thank you_ for devising new ways of torture" dripped his voice.

"Healing usually comes with pain." She was quick to finish, dabbing each area softly.

"An apt description for what my rule would have been after conquest." She had a feeling he was barbing her. Instead she rinsed and refilled the cup with new water, dropped the pain pills in his mouth as he angled his head upward gingerly and helped him swallow with a drink. During that time she took advantage of his silence.

"Please don't start. There is no way that conversation will go well." Finished she moved around him to the side.

His head followed her and the tension in his form was back. "What are you doing?" There it was: fear, veiled in an imperious tone. But she chose to ignore it, emboldened by her previous brash behavior.

"There are some pads left over; I'm checking on your hands." Jane had eased down on his side to get a better view. They seemed red and raw, split open with –

He jerked away with a growl, gasping and curling inward from the effort.

"Stop! You're hurting yourse – !"

" **Don't**." His voice was livid snarl, coated in steel.

"What? But they're –."

" _Think_ for a moment Jane Foster." He hissed, a touch of madness in his eyes. This time she gasped and reeled back, his anger propelling her further. Her knees hit the cot's edge and she found herself scrambling on it until her back met the wall, taking in his wild form and feral glare. _This_ was the Loki she'd heard of and expected to see, the one who reduced others to prey even when caged and chained.

She struggled to keep her wits. "How do you know who I am?"

"I made it my business to know who you are, but my clemency can only extend so far; I have risked much and have little to show for it." His eyes bore into her, forcing her to understand.

The truth dawned on her. He'd let her help him as far as he could without taking advantage of the situation. He wasn't repentant or even resigned. He would use her if he had the chance; but for some reason he'd warned her.

"Why?" She swallowed, trying to regulate her breathing and still her racing heart as she quaked on the cot. _Definitely need to work on that, Jane_. "If you knew all along why stop now?"

Grunting he angled towards her as much as he could. Those green eyes were no longer tempered or sedate, now sharp and cutting he pinned her with a glance. "I wished to speak with the woman who had such a profound effect on my brother, an effect that has been a mystery to me for quite some time."

She shook her head in denial as her thoughts came back online. "Thor did some growing up and I gave him a place to stay, that's all. But that doesn't explain your actions a moment ago."

"Rules of war dictate such; I would not normally adhere – but you are not a soldier and still you chose to see to my needs, even treating me with dignity when others have not." He took a moment to breath and she gave it to him, both of them swallowing. "I would have some honor left to me when dragged home like a dog, rather than letting desperation have its way."

A quiet fell between them only disturbed by their breathing as the wearily regarded each other, him staggering for breath, kneeling and chained before her, who sat safe but shaking. He honestly didn't trust himself which she found scared her the most. A minute passed, interrupted finally with a far-off clanging and a boisterous voice familiar to them both.

"I'm afraid our time has run out." He nodded to the muzzle. "I hope S.H.E.I.L.D. and their director have been satisfied sufficiently by my ill treatment to afford us to finally leave." She glanced at the cup of water, then the blanket. Wondering if he needed anything else but he interrupted her thought. "You must go. Toss the blanket under the cot."

Ever curious she had to ask. "Why did he leave you here?"

He shook his head, now avoiding her gaze, but she knew it was a refusal to answer not confusion on the person. "Come, there isn't much time." At her hesitancy he persisted. "Allow me this."

That's when she realized, he was asking her to save his pride, allow him to continue his act of control and strength. With a nod she picked up the muzzle, thankful that she hadn't knocked it with her flight.

Approaching him she was at an utter loss for words. She knew he could tell so he took his turn instead. With his charming grin in place he spoke for the last time for possibly quite some time, but there seemed to be a measure of sincerity in his manner. "Farewell Jane Foster of Midgard. I hope to meet again under better circumstances."

She nodded and moved to replace the strange muzzle, but quick as a flash, before she could react past a quick intake of breath, his head darted forward and he kissed the back of her right hand's fingers curled over the strap. Sensing her added reluctance at the act he ruefully gave her a smile. "I promised I wouldn't bite." Then he thrust his head into it despite his cringe and she hurriedly connected the two ends carefully below his hair at nape of his neck, her finger brushing what felt like a scar. With a snap it secured and just as she started to move he pulled back, causing her fingers to trail along each side of his jaw until she shrank away.

He jutted his chin to indicate the first aid supplies and blanket which she gathered quickly without a word, throwing the wool under the bed then returned the cup and left the cell. She looked back at him with a sense of helplessness that was further irrational in their different positions. He waited, he only had time now.

Swallowing she found her words, matching in his formality. "Good bye Loki of Asgard, I can't wish you luck, but I do wish you well."

With a glint in his eye he nodded to the door. Her own grim smile offered, she gave her own nod and turning to go she didn't look back. Her quest for coffee was utterly forgotten.

* * *

Maria Hill entered Director Fury's office and stood at attention. As he looked up from his desk to acknowledge her she spoke. "Sir, your suspicion was correct. When not monitored, Jane Foster did leave her quarters and wandered the base. Her path led her to Loki and she interacted with the prisoner. I chose to let it play out while watching the recording."

Concern and intrigue warred in him, Thor was a new ally and he'd hoped to cement his trust by bringing Jane Foster to the carrier, changing her destination enroute since the battle had ended. "Anything useful?"

Hill shifted. "Possibly sir; but they do seem to have an affinity, if nothing else, an understanding. He humored her far more than he should have concerning what we know of him and even warned her against himself."

OK now he was interested, but it still had to be contained. "I'll review the tapes later." With a nod he gave his orders. "Have a patrol intercept Jane Foster on her way back to the guest quarters and secure her there until this blows over. If Thor asks for her reveal her whereabouts and let them meet but not otherwise."

With a salute Hill left and Fury took a moment to puzzle over the new development.

* * *

When Thor came barreling in he interrupted Loki's thoughts of Jane and carefully measured breathes. "You are much improved, Loki. I am glad that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s warriors have taken such good care of you."

He gave Thor a look that would curdle cheese. His so-called righteous brother had left him in the hands of his enemies, disgraced and injured to cavort with his new friends. No, they were assuredly not brothers. Although they rarely were on equal footing this time the entire battlefield had laid between them and for once Loki wouldn't have it any other way.

Thor shirked off his levity, replacing it with candor. "Loki I am sorry it has come to this, once we are home this will be straightened out; we need you to tell us your story so we can aid you."

 _Ah,_ he thought to himself _I am still a child in need of rescuing is it? It's been some time since I clung to your coattails Thor. We shall see if Odin will turn such a blind eye._

Thor regarded him, no doubt seeing he had words to speak. "I would hear your voice brother, even should it pain me."

Reaching around his head he removed the muzzle that it seemed the All-Father himself had commissioned for him. When it was first affixed Loki couldn't help but wonder how long the great patriarch had been waiting to use it. He'd learned that it, just like the ensorcelled shackles wouldn't open for his own hand.

Even with it gone he didn't have any words to speak to Thor Odinson, but the breathing was easier. But then he thought again and decided to divulge just enough. "Your hope for honor is misplaced in these new compatriots of yours." Loki worked his jaw mostly for show now; Jane had been there less than an hour before. Yet the muzzle was tight and despite its fine craftsmanship horridly uncomfortable on his tender face. "If I was treated it was not by order of your precious Director Fury." There; let him writhe with that.

The Thunderer looked comically confused. "Who did this then? I would thank them."

"Wouldn't you like to know Thor Odinson. But I won't divulge my benefactor; _their_ honor at least won't be besmirched." With a sneer he wedged it in deeper. Thor always did have a way of leading his foot to his mouth. "It seems my thanks must be enough to some."

He hoped that the Oaf had had his fill of Midgard as he was well and truly ready to leave his failed campaign and this cursed planet. "When do we acquit this place and return to your glorious realm?"

" _Our_ realm Loki." He fruitlessly told him with a sigh. "And we will return to Asgard within the day after I have finished my affairs."

With that said Thor bent to reattach the muzzle and Loki didn't care to fight him. Only when he laid his large hand on his head did Loki jerk it away, thankfully hiding the pain from less analytical eyes. Thor left him again to his thoughts and, unbeknownst to him, in only slight agony. Seemed Midgardian painkillers could at least take off the edge of pain.

This turn was fortunate. He knew he couldn't hide his injuries much longer but at least in Asgard he would have proper treatment, and be away from Thor because of it. Also such a short time before their departure could mean that Thor was unaware that his paramour was on this very base. For a reason he couldn't fathom Loki had no desire to see or hear of his fake brother's reunion with the small mortal as Thor would of no doubt tell him.

Hours later standing out in the square still muzzled, but at least his shackled arms were forward to grip the Tesseract's container, Loki felt a strange sigh of relief that he'd neither seen nor hear any further mention of Jane Foster.

* * *

Later, when she'd seen firsthand the desolation of New York, the lists of dead and people mourning Jane Foster promised herself that if she ever saw Loki of Asgard again she would slap him, screw whoever else was in the room at the time.

 _End_

* * *

 _This could go on, but for now I'm leaving it a oneshot. I hope it was enjoyable. :)_


	2. Chapter 2: Curios

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I ended up getting to this when I had a cold and I meant for this story to be a oneshot but forgot to mark it as complete… and the plot bunnies got to it because they do that.

AN: Sorry for being a tease, I realized that my previous ending that I wrote would have thrown my next chapter out of whack so I rewrote it, then hated it, revised it and finally it's ok.

This goes out to those who hoped against hope and decided to press "follow" for this story. You're pure gold.

 **Summary:** What if… "Thor: The Dark World" took place over a number of days and there was more time for trouble to occur behind the scenes? Still trying to be canon compliant here…

* * *

The devil stood garbed in green behind a flickering gold glow. Thrust down beneath the shining city, a king's dark secret waits gnawing at his chains.

JjJjJ

It was another interesting day for Jane. She finally got the courage to ask out Richard then Darcy comes and makes her sound crazy - well, crazier than she normally is - to investigate something noteworthy finally. Compound that with her readings, the abandoned factory, the strange red plasma, and the reappearance of her supposed paramour then being whisked off to Asgard without a by-your-leave was a bit much for her.

Nevermind that the golden city was populated with rather bigoted aliens whose king seemed the worst politician she'd ever met (Darcy would have a field day with that) and then basically tell her that she was dying and it wasn't their problem as she'd stuck her nose where it shouldn't belong. It's not as if she'd asked Thor to save her; if her being in mortal danger was what it took to see the crown prince again she'd pass.

Left to her own devices finally Jane decided to do what she did best: investigate (because that worked oh so well about three hours ago). Jane had never done well being confined to small spaces and her elegant suite was still just that. So, she noticed a draft…and a secret door… which had led her to another shady place about five flights of stairs down into the palace depths. Torches barely threw back shadows and the air was damp on her tongue, misting in her hair. Ahead she could see the stone passage effused with dim white light and following her course she peered out past a glimmering field of energy into a vast, occupied, chamber.

Along each side, nestled between vaulted columns were placed rooms on raised daises whose walls were outlined in glowing white energy. One look at the rough occupants and layout caused fear to spike through her; it seemed that she'd found her way into Asgard's modernly medieval dungeon.

Tempted beyond her capacity she tested the force field before her; it gave. She took. Entering the chamber she found that the entryway she'd passed through look none other than roughhewn stone, but when she touched it, it remained permeable. Thus assured, Jane couldn't pass up the opportunity.

Every cell was filled to capacity and seething with conflict; it seems not all of the inmates were happy with whom they were grouped in with as cell mates. Her curiosity edged her forward after here pulse evened slightly. There were more races than she'd ever hoped for represented in this single room, and those were only the ones she could visually discern. Sticking to the shadows and only pausing behind pillars she tried to get a closer look at the variety of species despite the awkward feeling she had of treating those present like animals in a zoo.

Her closer perusal did bring another mystery. As she made her way down the hall out of sight, one cell seemed almost unoccupied, which was also - curiously - somewhat furnished. This one was secluded from its neighboring cells by those on either side having opaque barriers to afford more privacy to the occupant, but not from the guards. It was only due to the fact that none of the detainees paid her any notice that had her creeping forward to peer around the next-closest column to learn what was so special about this one. Jane almost had line of sight around the stone pillar when a familiar voice froze her in place.

"So a little mouse has come to stare at the False Prince?" a silky tone murmured almost conversationally. "Little mice should be careful around the rabid; else the beast recalls its hunger."

Impossibly she heard the whisper of paper as if a page had turned. Then Jane realized that the din of the other prisoners have decreased massively, leaving a painful quite that she felt betrayed her heart and breath. Turning, she looked out to see the other cells' inhabitants seeming just as noisy as before, but the sound dampened. This cell and its occupant were special; the voice was familiar, and its next words brought recollection.

"But it seems foolish mice are safe for the moment from angry gods. Come out little one and entertain me; you are quite safe…today."

Jane's breathing became ragged and her hands clenched the stone pillar underneath them. Wrath fanned through her veins as she recalled the devastation of New York: skeleton skyscrapers against the smoky air; putrid rotting flesh of the dead alien creatures and their masters; countless burns from the energy rifles and the accompanying bloodstains adorned almost every building downtown. Lastly the memorial whose names stretched on farther and farther each day, littered with flowers, toys, candles and letters, sometimes still damp with the tears of those left behind. She steeled herself for the encounter before her.

No quips fell from her lips, but emboldened she stepped from the shadows with iron in her spine and flint in her eyes to confront the mad mass murderer whose wounds she'd once treated.

Before her sat the fallen prince, his legs outstretched parallel to the barrier and his back supported by the wall. He was a picture of ease, reading a book in his cell's glaring light. A non-descript smirk curled across his face and she continued her approach; until all expression fell away as she came within about a yard of the cell and into its white light.

Green eyes rose to take in her own form, now garbed in Asgardian silk which leant her more airs than her simple date outfit could and she looked him over in turn. His hair was longer and even lanker than before, his clothes clean but without armor, his pallor as pale as a corpse but at least - she conflictedly noted - his injuries looked healed, his eyes slightly less haunted.

His eyes had alighted with recognition, losing some their cold. As he rose to stand she wished she'd slipped away rather than give him the satisfaction of another meeting. But a part of her needed to know - to understand - how a refined prince becomes a monster.

He was silent for a moment more, the weight of his gaze pressing upon her as if she stood at the bottom of an ocean trench. She wondered how she looked to him as he seemed to take her in from head to toe, then meeting her eyes at last, though only seconds had passed.

Suddenly his somber countenance changed like a flick of a switch and he gave her a dazzling smile. "Miss Foster, what a singularly pleasant surprise. What brings you to my humble dwellings?" He waited as she inspected him likewise. Words still escaped her so she let him cover the silence. "Although I can appreciate the similarity of our earlier encounter I can't imagine this is a social visit. Nevertheless I am intrigued to see you -."

Jane ignored his words; they were usually tainted anyway so she focused on what physical evidence she could glean. Loki Odinson looked much better. Pale as always, but hale and energized. He moved fluidly and had no outward marks of injury or mistreatment and a look at his cell showed that his elevated rank still gave him certain luxuries.

Her mind overlay the images of rescue centers, refugee camps, medical tents and martial law. She'd gone to the city to see how she could help; once the being before her was returned off-world along with Thor, her bodyguards were moot and SHIELD released her with only minor provisions to her everlasting relief. Jane had waded in to volunteer with her limited skills and if nothing else to hold the hands of those in pain as an offer some slight comfort. She fetched and carried, relayed messages, helped the Red Cross, and missing persons agencies and basically ran herself ragged for several weeks; she crashed on cots like anyone else or on the floor when the beds were needed until those displaced had been settled and the work had to be left to the real professionals.

Her right fist clenched to ward off the itch of promise it still kept to this day.

She was brought to the present again but a tsking sound and looked up, startled to find him closer than before, resting on one knee to be closer to her eye level. His green eyes glimmered in amusement at her reaction. "Miss Foster, I must say it's less than good manners to not pay attention when someone is talking."

Just as before, truth was her only recourse. "I'm still trying to reconcile the devastation I witnessed first-hand with the person I met that day."

His mouth twisted into a maniacal grin, a slash of exposed teeth. "Have the scales fallen from your eyes, my dear? Tell me, what do you see before you now?"

Baiting. He wants this; he wants me to hate him…but why?

Jane gave no smile in return. "I don't know what you think you want me to see. As I said, I'm still trying to understand. At least you seem improved since we last met."

Her answer seemed to quite whatever rage was building inside him. His eyes broke from hers as he straightened and stood, his face more composed towards sanity. His next words were quiet and he met her eyes once more. "I am grateful for your help. Your ministrations allowed me a modicum of dignity no other of your species would afford."

Jane shrugged, unnerved by his continuing scrutiny. "It's what any decent person would have done. On Earth we have laws for the humane treatment of prisoners. Really I did very little."

"Ah. That word again, 'human.'" he turned and started to pace, warming to his subject. "Surly you know it means little to me - a would-be god of mortals. Most of them barely have any emotions - let alone value - at all, what could it matter to compare them to civilized society?"

Pain sliced through her at his words. Images of Erik under lock down with SHIELD or afterwards at the sanitarium accosted her. It was one of the major reasons that she'd worked so hard volunteering as a first responder; the helplessness she felt at Erik's side was at least mitigated somewhat by what little work she could do in the city. When she finally could visit him he was so far gone under medication for his concussion or the antipsychotics for his PTSD episodes that Jane wondered if he even knew she was there.

Numbly, she shook her head. Her hand itched, she could feel her nails cutting into the fleshy heel of her palm. Unclenching her jaw she found her voice hard and struggling to keep even. "Were there not a force field between us I'd be tempted to do something very stupid right now."

His face had the gall to show patronizing bemusement. "Oh Jane, it's about time you finally see the monster before you."

She swallowed; it was somehow more ugly a word when it fell from his lips - almost as though he relished in it. Shame burned her cheeks when she thought of her own thoughts just moments earlier. "I'm a little old to still believe in monsters, but there are such things as monstrous acts." She took a breath, remembering how her panic had spiked when the Bobby had tried to arrest her, and the accompanying results. Talking in a dungeon full of insurgents with a megalomaniac didn't seem like the best idea at the moment.

But she still wanted answers; answers that SHIELD had never given, that had been kept from her entire world. "Besides, as a scientist I like to deal with facts, and I'd never heard your side of the story. What I had heard of you before didn't exactly coincide with razing a city and trying to take over a planet."

He snorted and muttered under his breath. "I would think the empirical data would speak for itself. "He'd started pacing again, raising his voice only slightly so she crept forward to hear him as he turned away and spoke. "You must be either deplorably simple or uniquely benevolent for a human."

He sidestepped the question she noted. He turned to pace back, looking at his hands, and then looking up through his lashes. His eyes sparkling with secrets and… intrigue? "But circumstances have changed, have then not?" Closer than before, feet away and humming with suppressed excitement, he pitched his voice low. "You are no longer strictly human yourself, are you Jane Foster."

Eyes widening, she stood stock still while his words rang through her, eyes cast to the floor to hide her fear. Panic rose in her throat, clenching it smaller so less oxygen traveled to her lungs; naturally skyrocketing her pulse and along with it, a heat she could not easily forget. I definitely shouldn't be here!

Once again Loki held more cards than he'd let on, and now he'd either confirmed or sensed the power that she'd so willingly shown him just by her presence. Jane worked to loosen her limbs and slow her heart rate. Fleeing wouldn't help matters, but leaving sounded just fine.

As if sensing her intention he turned and continued pacing. His voice was smooth and soothing, as if to tether her there further "You are quite safe, from me at least." He his steps whispered on the stone but he somehow could sense her, waiting for her to raise her head. "What has befallen you, curious little Jane?"

She noted that once again he chose to call her by name, despite there only being the two of them. Realization struck her that she'd never uttered his. He had come to stop in front of her once again, and once again his expression seemed softer, but she didn't know if it was a ploy for information or merely to assuage his own curiosity.

She quickly weighed the risks. Palaces and their inhabitants were notorious for gossip by nature; although her being here was a secret she was certain he had some sources. Either way he now knew she was here and he knew - somehow she knew - he could sense the added energy from her intergalactic wanderings. When Jane took a second she could sense something from him in turn, so it was completely logical that it might go both ways. Lastly Thor's words from that first late night conversation on the rooftop came unbidden to her "Loki is skilled in magics; though it's not an honorable method it does have its uses." That alone had given her great insight into Asgardian culture while leaving her desperate for more.

But Asgard had, in a way, already failed her. Although they had knowledge of the Aether their technology proved useless against extracting it let alone harnessing it. "Magic" hadn't been even considered - unless it was intertwined with their technology. But that ability or energy that some would call "pure magic," which she might be feeling from Loki, could hold the key as it seemed to be something the energy within her was able to interact with on some level.

His words once again brought her out of her revelry. "You are right to be cautious." He softly spoke, settling himself as close to the barrier and as level to her as his height would allow. His eyes held something akin to sincerity at his next words borne with all solemnity "But I give my word, I mean you no harm in this Jane."

She knew he could tell when he'd won her confidence and he waited for her. Looking about the room to make sure she was shielded from the other cells by the large pillar before venturing several steps farther in, but only slightly closer." Odin called it the Aether. Somehow I stumbled upon it through a kind of portal, and it latched on to me." She couldn't help a small quirk of her lips at the irony of her next words. "Turns out I'd poked around where I shouldn't have again."

His next words reflected the gravity she'd felt since coming to Asgard. "Odin sealed it away centuries ago, you must have unwittingly accessed it through the Convergence." Loki said almost to himself. At her lack of questions he continued, meeting and holding her gaze almost with severity. "Its power is too great for you, it will engulf you without a trace."

She simply nodded, but decided to expound in answer to his slight surprised at her lack of reaction. "The healers told me as much. It's definitely not benign which is why I was brought here." Reality pressed down on her, his lack of answers or further comments left her empty and she could feel her energy waning.

His words confirmed her deductive leap. "I have never had dealings with it; It's unfortunate to say I won't be able to repay my debt with aiding you."

"There's not debt to repay" she murmured, thoughts turning cartwheels in her head. Another dead end. Jane tried to rally herself to find other questions but her thoughts were fuzzy.

"You are tired; it drains you even now." His voice seemed to come from a distance. "Perhaps you should consider a rest?"

She nodded and regretted it, suddenly feeling light-headed. "That sounds like a good idea." She could guess he was caught off guard when she came close enough to sit on the stairs leading up to the cell's dais but she didn't care. Her strength was wilting and she needed to sit down; it seemed her anxiety episode had taken more that she'd anticipated, her disappointed hope didn't help. "Ignore me if you like; I'm afraid I'll need several minutes before I can make my way back."

She closed her eyes and focused on the cool stone beneath her palms and the now refreshingly cool dank air, willing herself to stay mostly upright. Too tired to acknowledge her surprise as he continued to speak with her. "You never answered; how did you happen upon this place?"

His voice helped center her so Jane strove to continue the conversation. But her throat was as dry as a desert and she had to cough to clear it. "I, uh, found a draft in my room and wanted to investigate. I've never been good with enclosed spaces."

He hummed a response then lightly asked. "Am I to infer that you were kept to your accommodations? I'm sorry that Asgard's hospitality has worn so thin."

Her inelegant snort thankfully didn't echo in the cavernous room. "I might have been compared to a goat. No, the only hospitality I've received is from Thor and the Queen. Besides, I don't think you're one to judge; this is quite the set up."

A sound had her turning despite her weakness to confirm that Loki, mass murderer and persona non grata on at least three worlds was chuckling - mirthlessly but chuckling nonetheless. "Yes, only a step down or so than my previous post. Odin does hate his mongrels slipping their collars. Something for your to remember for the future my dear." Jane could hear the warning but her mind was too tired to understand, nor to consider why he used endearments with her.

Noticing he'd steered away from the delicate topic of family without so much of a twitch she wondered if he was in a good enough mood to indulge her burning curiosity. "I wonder…I mean, I heard that…"

He seemed to take pity on her clumsy attempts at rhetoric. "Ask, Jane. I promised not to be offended, though I may not answer."

His voice was closer and turning her head she found he'd come to sit next to her on the other side of the barrier. She'd felt a pull inside her, as if gravity had increased towards the energy field and wasn't surprised to find him there. Jane risked a quick look at his face and was relieved to find bemusement.

"Would you tell me about what happened to you?" His eyes grew distant, retreating.

She could see he was mounting a defense for her question and she rushed to head him off. "What I mean is, I heard that y-you fell - what did you see? What was it like… out there?"

Comprehension dawned across his brow. Jane guessed he'd just remembered her primary vocation, and how it got her into trouble. "Is that was that Oaf told you? That I fell? Obviously his remembrance is altered."

His humor at least was back but Jane could feel herself shrinking before his derision. A pin could be heard dropping between them, until his fluid voice filled the space, weaving his tale gently.

"I passed into the void; the residual magic from the Bifrost's destruction caused a tear and I slipped through." His eyes became glassy as they looked to the in-between, recollecting. "It was bitterly cold and slightly habitable despite being airless - I sense it was my magic that predominately kept me alive. Stars burned brightly, almost through my lids in contrast to the consuming blackness and there was no reference as I fell as all around me was in commotion."

"Time was unmarked and the silence was deafening…" Jane sat spellbound by his words. "I cannot be sure how long I fell, but I do know it was for some considerable period until I found a rather abrupt stop. It was educational to say the least."

At the returned silence she barely ventured to break it with a breath. "Then what?"

He drew back, his story finished. "That is all."

Darcy had once called her a knowledge junkie. "But… surly you've left out some details."

"All I will add is that there are creatures more depraved than you can imagine -even rivaling what you see before you." His tone brooked no argument until she turned her head in confusion to peek at the others in the dungeon to confirm his words. The warmth in his next words drew her back around.

"You are truly too kind, Jane." His smirk widened to an almost genuine smile at her furrowed brow. When she opened her mouth to ask again he shook his head to say he would not elaborate. After a moment of consideration he simply added "Pray you never meet them."

Awash in her perplexity she almost missed his head turning to look out the front of the cell.

"This should be familiar." He noted, turning back with black humor in his eyes again. "If you are feeling well enough I suggest you depart. The guard is coming and will be here shortly. I'm sure it is time for the evening meal and you will be missed from your room should you stay longer."

Jane nodded and steadied herself. Rising a little shakily she noticed Loki stand as well. She almost stumbled and from the corner of her eye she thought she saw his nearest hand make a gesture, then abort the movement by falling to his side. Looking at him fully he stood with poise, hands clasped behind his back, an ironic picture of innocence.

"Be careful Jane Foster; I hope to see you in better health if our paths cross again."

She kept her dour thoughts to herself and fixed a small smile on her face; life finds a way. She would have faith that another option would come available, giving up would only cement her course.

Departing from him once more not knowing should they ever meet once more she said her goodbye, mirroring his formality. "Farewell again, Loki of Asgard. I hope you find some peace."

With a wry smile and a tilt of his head he turned to distract the guard while she slipped away.

LlLlL

Of all the people, how did Jane Foster make her way here. Truly she was gifted for finding trouble; alas she was less than skilled at handling it.

She plays you quite well whispered that inner voice he'd come to hate. Except, she didn't. The one reason he found her intriguing was that she never played games, never rose to his ire or baited his temper.

It was a welcome reprieve to talk with the tiny Midgardian again; although his circumstances were improved he wished he could have been near her - a startling thought of itself, but perhaps not so surprising. He found himself able to pretend normalcy, to fall back on old habits that seemed like they belonged to another lifetime.

Hers was the first kind, unassuming touch he'd suffered since that fateful day. Before that was when his mother last embraced him years ago - only for him to throw himself to fate not a bell toll later. He'd been pawed at, mauled, debased and injured by claws, hand, gauntlets and all else; until finally finding some grace from the Norns in the form of a slight brown haired girl.

Her little hands had soothed his troubled mind more than healed him, bringing him some semblance of harmony he'd never deserve in all the World Tree. She'd restored his appearance to her limited ability and even spoken to him with respect - not his due certainly, but he couldn't fault her as he had witnessed she'd been just as abrupt with his Not-Brother. No, her allure came in that she treated all with equality. Even then her fairness was curbed with mercy to converse of her own accord not once but twice with a proclaimed villain of several worlds.

When she'd stepped out of the dark he'd thought he was dreaming again. Closing his eyes he could still see her. Swathed in Aesir silk she was a comely and welcome vision with her hair cascading around her shoulders and her arms bare in the current fashion. But that too was tainted; the power lurking beneath her veins was hopefully too insidious a delusion for his mind, the slight glow emanating from her was sadly not her own personal radiance.

He found her unaltered from his pain-hazed memory, if not bewildered by their renewed acquaintance. But waning, like a flower scorched by an unforgiving and unrelenting sun. He tried to push the thought away before it penetrated too deeply: Jane Foster was dying; her life inching away before his very eyes. And a part of him would mourn that such a bright mind was extinguished earlier than absolutely necessary.

He clenched his fist at the memory of her stumble; for a moment he'd forgotten the barrier was there and had tried to steady her with his hand when she faltered. Luckily he remembered and avoided touching it as it would have alerted the guard and made for an uncomfortable display.

Loki settled himself and tried to mitigate any childish interest to see Jane Foster again; opening his book he kept the pretense of continuing to read as he waited for the guard to pass and kept an ear out for any telling noise that she would be caught. Only after the food had been delivered and soldier's round completed did he contented himself to eat. After all, he had a debt to repay, its value to him no less despite her words to the reverse.

Should they meet again perhaps he would find the chink in Jane Foster's character that would relegate her back to another non-descript mortal, fit only for amusement and then forgotten as he'd been taught his whole life instead of a tiny figure who he found some form of fascination towards.

Loki tried to ignore that voice in his head which told him he wanted her to keep proving him and his childhood wrong.

* * *

 _You are the avalanche_  
 _One world away_  
 _My make believing_  
 _While I'm wide awake_

 _Just a trick of light_  
 _To bring me back around again_  
 _Those wild eyes_  
 _A psychedelic silhouette_

 _My salvation_

\- Gabrielle Aplin

* * *

AN: it's not love, but Jane exists outside Loki's bitterness and lets him show a side of himself he doesn't have the strength or hope to admit still exists: the princely gentleman, the person worthy of regard. But as with everyone he stubbornly tries to make her work for his own regard - he's waiting to prove everyone as flawed as him. But Jane doesn't respond to games, and because these moments occur just between themselves pretenses can slip away.

Also, sorry for any formatting errors; for some reason my story didn't upload like it was supposed to; I tried to find them all but I am writer, critic, and editor so be kind and point them out to me. :)

Please review: I'll give you karma cookies. ;)

AN2: Ok, I PROMISE I am done editing! Gosh am I driving myself crazy so I can't help but cringe if there's someone out there that I'm driving up the wall as well. X/


	3. Chapter 3: From Ashes

Disclaimer: none of it's mine.

AN: Oh. My. Word. People are reading, reviewing AND _following_ … Many props to abyphile, Tsukiyomi Sora, spyrals, carol berlin, OfTheOcean, megumisakura, carlita stoneheart, Mrs. Marple Poirot and Tizronell. You folks ROCK!

I have several chapters after this one – one small and one large, then another tiny one (unless I can stretch it). Anything past that would be indeed off-canon as I'm already taking liberties with the timeline.

Last note: I listened to Gabrielle Aplin's _Salvation_ incessantly while writing this. Feel free to give it a try. 

Summary: TDW, takes place the night after Jane and Loki's second meeting.

* * *

 **From Ashes**

Smoke stung her eyes and choked her with acrid fumes. All around her the lab was in flames, affording her no escape. Pulling her flannel sleeve down her hand to cover her mouth she tried to see past her streaming tears that evaporated in the heat.

She couldn't remember how the fire had caught, but the writhing mass was almost complete, ringing her in tighter and tighter as a noose about her neck. The flames caught more and more, all the while dancing closer to her lone corner, furious sparks whipping around in the inferno's gale. Crouching in the only corner left she couldn't find a way out. The smoke was thick and the bright flames heavy; they seemed too unbearably hot to be real – melting her thoughts and crumbling her will to ash.

Her fear spiked as hope was strangled out of her. There was no escape; her sensible mind knew that the oxygen in the room would be quickly consumed and she only had moments of consciousness left.

Where was the fire department? Emergency response? Were Darcy and Eric safe?

 _Where was Thor?_

In a token effort to survive borne more from lightheadedness than reason Jane sought the ground for the last precious remains of viable air. To her horror she heard the cracking of glass; the large showroom windows were baulking under the fire's pressure.

Her last rational though was that their collapse would bring a backdraft that would almost vaporize her.

Somehow she was still conscious when the greedy fire caught her – burning hair and clothes away and bringing the sickly sweet smell of roasting meat.

As agony overtook her, turning her inside out, Jane screamed; heedless of the fumes she begged for release until all went red.

LlLlL

Far below the palace a lone figure felt a mounting wave of distress begin to crest, its inhabitants unaware of the pain and accompanying danger in their very midst.

The second Prince had been underestimated when jailed. His time away had increased his capacity in ways he almost regretted knowing. His harsh taskmasters' tutelage had been enlightening indeed; he'd learned how far he could stretch – in mind, body and spirit – until he broke. Every time he was driven to the edge the universe expanded his knowledge, but to the detriment of his sanity.

The sinister tidal wave drew him toward its source like a siren's song, curiosity mingled with his cultivated desire for power. Gathering his reserved magic he flung a double to the far side of the castle to land in a guestroom. One look at the star-painted ceiling and midnight drapes obliterated his surprise as his gaze landed on the bed, answering the question he felt at the phantom pull towards its occupant. What did catch him off his guard was Jane Foster's appearance.

Drenched in sweat the mortal's tiny form gave off an eerie red glow, emanating from her skin as though flame trapped in glass. Her limbs writhed in a panic subdued only by lack of consciousness.

Coming around the foot of the bed he found a strange tug behind his ribcage; the Midgardian's mouth was open in silent scream, her chest rising and falling in shallow, desperate breathes.

"Miss Foster." His whisper cut through the air but she would not rouse. His double made no sound as it came to kneel next to the head of the bed. His stomach churned unpleasantly as the sight before him catapulted him back to deeply buried memories of a harsh moon and a starless sky. Pushing such useless thoughts back he returned to the present. Bending near her ear he tried again, his method against his better judgement. " _Jane_."

For a moment her struggles lessened and her brow almost furrowed, but the action was lost as she was caught up in the nightmare once more, his words not enough to draw her from its grasp.

The Aether was trying to break free, or at least destroy its fragile host. The little woman's color was alarmingly higher than before and he noted that red embers streaked through her veins like livid lightning, heralding the escalating danger.

Assessing her distress he tried to recall his studies in Eir's healer's sanctum from what felt as though a lifetime ago. Though a poor student at times– his Not-Brother had had little respect for his academic interests and the time it took him away from fawning over Thor –the Healer had taught him to focus on the weak points of an Aesir's anatomy from disease. He postulated that such words would apply even more so to a less hearty species; and the brain and the heart were most susceptible to fever's ravaging's.

The scientist's breaths had turned to shallow gasps and he fancied he could hear her heart beating out of her chest, a race horse careening towards the finish line. Hesitantly at first, he placed his double's hand just above her forehead. Then, before he could analyze his actions he reached for that place he'd tightly locked away as soon as it had been found in the vault years ago; cool emanated from his hand but her response did not bode well. His frost was not powerful, nor ideal to quench the magical heat of the Aether.

Following his instincts he raised his other hand over her heart. The insidious power coiled there like a viper waiting for the strike. Carefully he pulled at the over-flowing magic, siphoning off the coming crescendo that Jane's body could not contain. It was delicate work, not unlike wrestling a storm barehanded. At first as each moment crept by he struggled to merely hold on, and then gasped as the Aether found purchase in him like a poisoned barb. Instead of retreating he clutched it and its pain deeper, drawing it more into himself and away from its fragile vessel, giving room for Jane to continue one more day.

Loki knew that Jane Foster would die, that her life would be catastrophically short, but he had no intention of standing by this night and letting her spark slip away under what was once his own roof, nor to let this entity use her form for its own.

Jane grew still and he waited with baited breath for her to rally, the soft sounds of their breathing pounding in his ears. But despite his wishes the opposite plainly occurred. She laid there like a statue, fading to lifeless stone, his efforts too late. With ponderous finality her heart started to slow. Rearing and fighting the muscle lost its rhythm and he could feel her pulse slack and subside. Something like anguish swept through him in the deafening silence as a last breath slipped between her small chapped lips.

Blinking back angry tears Loki stormed his own reservations and brought both his double's hands down the inches necessary and into contact with her tiny body. With a surge he delved deeper than he'd ever allowed when healing another with his magic.

The room around him was lost to his sense but he was unable to block out the sensation of this strange creature as he focused on forcing a conduit. Soft strands of her hair that had been stuck to her damp temple now clung to his palm and he chastely felt her upper sternum and slender collarbone under his opposite hand. One word issued in the lamentable quiet and he barely realized it came from his own tongue were it not for its foreign and awkward shape.

 _"Please."_

Searching inside her, he found no trace of Jane Foster but he refused to concede. Instead he dove; plumbing depths of blackness while holding the raging Aether at bay from his own linked body and from taking over what was left of Jane's mind as he drew its raw painful power further into himself to wreak damage there.

"Please Jane." He gasped into the dark. Loki knelt; a fallen prince, deposed monarch, and failed tyrant beside the still form of a race he'd despised, ruled and waged war.

JjJjJ

A tremble.

A plucked string – low in timber but ringing – stirred the awful heat and brought some semblance of comprehension. What was left of Jane had buried deep in her mind like a seed forgotten by spring – safe from pain [awareness], but fading as her body did. Until it was forced to rouse by some outside force beyond its tiny self.

This…attack [call/warning], had her retreating farther, shrinking smaller until there was nowhere left to retreat. And still this disturbance came, relentlessly pummeling her defenses; until the perfect, safe place was invaded with… _noise._

She had forgotten about sound, about senses beyond her safe shell. This tumult had her changing[reaching/expanding/growing] against the painful constrictions that had compressed/confined her to this last foothold in herself.

The noise – no, it was not simply sound, it was [distinctive], it had … _meaning_ – had her grasping for…some-thing [understanding], fighting against the excruciating force [pressure] until it rang clearly.

A voice.

A word.

 _"-Jane."_

Her name.

Inside Jane's mind, fighting the buffeting of the Aether's unchecked expansion Loki screamed again and again into the roaring wildfire the only word that could call back what once was lost. A fleck of blue was almost blotted out by the voracious red, but it shone again. He followed.

As comprehension flooded her Jane came closer to self [-awareness]. She gained form/substance, and something lit inside that tiny corner, a pinprick of… [hope].

No sooner had Jane come to herself than did the ripple coalesce into something [tangible], and coil around her; this force, soft, but firm and insistent it [him?] called to her, demanded action. Desperate for more [knowledge/sensation/memories] she allowed the invasion and clinging, she followed, rising… [up].

LlLlL

Plummeting like a falcon he found her, suspended in black like a star in the night sky; a lone jewel amid the Aether's ruinous path. With wonder he looked upon the purity that was Jane Foster's soul. Beaten and reduced she was still radiant; her gentle light shining through diamond clear facets. Without hands he encased her essence, nurturing it with his magic to stir, to grow and shine brighter and heal. Eagerly she gained and fought for control to reclaim both body and mind from the still present parasite.

Through his double he pulled the Aether's power that had consumed Jane, draining it like irrigating a wound, taking its putrid nature into himself, leaving room for her to reclaim what was hers. Once he felt the ebb of his own control he threw the rest of his waning magic into healing Jane's form.

Exhausted he clung to their connection like a shipwrecked wretch to a raft, until he felt her move under his double's hands. With a tight throat and gritted teeth he strove to hang on, to see her recovery. The light flutter of her heart turned to a heave as her lungs filled and Jane Foster flung herself up in bed just as he lost the power to hold his double's form, his illusioned hand slipping through her. As he faded he saw her shuddering shoulders. Just before his sight vanished he saw her turn towards where his proxy had knelt, one arm protectively held her stomach as if in pain and the other over her mouth to contain her sobs, tears shining in her eyes. In the dim light he was not certain her eyes had focused where his double had been.

Coming back to himself in his cell Loki held back his moan of pain. His fist clutched at his own heart where the insidious power had burrowed and burned. Encasing it in ice the Jotun laid limply on the bed. Completely spent, he succumbed to the black gladly knowing that he'd at least fought another's darkness and won. Unbeknownst to the once prince, Loki slept peacefully for the first night since he left the golden realm years ago.

JjJjJ

Bright light engulfed her to be replaced by pain. As if dragged through a brick wall Jane was flung back to consciousness, catapulting upright in bed despite the agony ripping through her body. Her senses assailed her, almost causing her pain. With her pulse roaring through her ears and heart jolting in her chest, Jane's vision slowly returned from the white burst of light. Every nerve screamed and each muscle tried to convulse but still her heart and lungs continued their cycles, familiar and yet foreign as though they had stopped only to resume fiercely upon her waking. Shaking she curled one arm around her middle and stifled her cries with her other palm. No one wished to hear her pain in this place and she refused to give them the satisfaction. Despite her dry throat tears sprang to her eyes. Somehow, beyond a doubt, Jane knew that she had almost died.

She also knew that she had felt another presence in the room, a ghost of the pull she'd felt earlier that day floors away. Turning she saw ivory shimmer, but it faded so quickly she couldn't tell if it was simply imagined by her overwrought mind. Her mind flitted to the Asgardian she'd seen only the second time earlier that day. Then, panicking she turned her senses inward to find the heat a slight fever inside her – far from the delirium that had swept her to unconsciousness previously that night.

Looking again where she would have sworn someone had knelt beside the bed Jane eased her worn body down and tried to sleep the lightest of sleeps. Beyond all rationality she felt protected… safe. Choosing belief over cynicism Jane slipped to restful sleep knowing the next time she awoke she'd see this realm's sun.

* * *

 _I never meant to fall for you but I  
Was buried underneath and  
All that I could see was white  
My salvation  
My, my  
My salvation  
My, my_

 _Salvation – Gabrielle Aplin_

* * *

AN: I struggled with this one until I had to give up and just post it; feed back is always welcome. On a shamefully personal note—everyone watch _Galavant_! Let's get a season three on the table for ABC. XD


	4. Chapter 4: Interlude

Disclaimer: still not writing any paychecks nor getting any royalties.

AN: Shout out to all the wonderful reviewers! This chapter was rather difficult as it revolved greatly on something that took about 60 seconds in the film and I've only seen said film once (diatribe on why not to be written here). Thank you so much for your patience(!); I went through a second draft then went back to the first one with minor edits so it took me quite some time. Now on with the show.

Summary: this chapter takes place the day after Frigga's funeral which is, according to my timeline, the third day Jane has been in Asgard (Day 1: Jane and Thor come to Asgard, chapter 2 that evening; that night, Chapter 3 happened. Day 2: Dark Elf invasion and Frigga's funeral. So now it's Day 3.) - the fact that I had to write that means I've done a poor job of denote it so I apologize! It _will_ matter in the next chapter.

* * *

 **Interlude:**

Before Jane came around the corner she could feel something different: A small flame flickering in an otherwise cold void. After the night before last she'd been more aware of the presence of those around her; each life felt like a soft spark on the fringe of her consciousness. All other Aesir were like dying embers on her periphery but this one shone brightly, almost gaily against a blank backdrop.

As she turned down the columned hall it all made sense. Walking up to him she couldn't help but raise her hand to point incredulous that he was before her once more, and in handcuffs as questions cartwheeled in her mind.

"You're -" Jane's words were cut off as he stepped forward and interrupted. Ego oozed from every pore except when his eyes met hers and he stiffened briefly; those orbs conveyed a message that she loathed but accepted. _Play the game_.

In that second, before him again, Jane was aware of so many nuances. His changed demeanor for one: chin held imperiously high he was the pinnacle of haughtiness and disdain wrapped in a five year old who, on finally been given leave from the table had escaped eating his vegetables: utterly unrepentant and almost gleeful with that manic grin.

He was all gentlemanly smiles and airs as he introduced himself with utter aplomb. "You may have heard of me."

His words, his mien, reminded her so much of the conquering persona SHIELD had shown her from the Stuttgart clips that Jane's anger overflowed and her hand itched once more.

As this was supposedly their first meeting and he wasn't injured - nor was there a force field between them - she decided to disregard rationality, let her instincts have their head, and did what she'd wanted for months now. Almost by itself her fist raised to punch straight across the left side of his jaw and leave the impact echoing in the vast hall.

He, in turn, was gracious enough to turn his head so she didn't crack a bone. Paid in full she delivered her message so there would be no mistake to her reasons. "That was for New York."

Jane couldn't help but feel foreboding as he pronounced "I like her," barely breaking their gaze. For a moment she and him just stood staring, locked together as everything faded away. Again, questions crowded her thoughts as she looked up at him; but now was not the time - perhaps it would never come. Being so close to him, the Aether reacting to his own magic - _energy_ \- signature; lessened from before she felt the same pull from the dungeons, reeling her in, drowning her in green depths.

Was it him that night? How did he come to her, and why?

Just as one thought lit her mind another sped right on its tail like a meteor shower, each new query eclipsing the other. His gaze was penetrating but searching. After a moment he seemed to relax, having found his answer and at that moment Thor gestured her forward. Their interlude over, Jane turned and boarded the ship.

LlLlL

Jane couldn't know that Loki's words were more than a promise of protection to Thor; The warning in them, however, flew right over the Thunderer's head.

The fake prince smiled brightly down at her, and it seemed all she could do was stare back at him, a feeling akin to relief passed through him to see her striding strongly towards the spot he and the others had gathered. The picture of Sif at her heels was somewhat amusing; he knew the warrior was guarding the rear but somehow the fierce Aesir looked more like a slow pup behind a fiery Valkyrie. He knew a reckoning was due so he took it far more gracefully than ever before, humoring her attempt at a reprimand. As scolding went it was rather impressive for her tiny self; her indignation was radiant compared to the lifeless corpse he witnessed in her room briefly and brought a slight warmth to his aching chest.

While the crown prince and his simpering minions were otherwise occupied he took the moment to search her. Jane looked surprisingly well for everything that had transpired, but there was a tightness around her eyes that bespoke anguish and guilt. He wished he could speak to her freely, but he had no intention of bearing his thoughts before the rabble.

No barrier stood between them, no shade of himself and yet he was still shackled before her, still demoted and demeaned. It rankled him: this lack of control, this dance; like two spheres always orbiting but never connecting. He also couldn't help grin at the fact that her first instinct was to soundly deck him – as she was able – as it was complete opposite of her first gentle touch. It was much preferred to some misguided attempt at pity. Jane seemed to have a sliver of lioness in her yet; she would need it before the end of this affair.

The moment was broken as Jane was ushered forward by Thor's beefy arm and then the obvious banter of promised pain and death over betrayal were doled out in heaping proportions. Indeed the Warriors Three and Sif needed a good stiff drink. The Norns knew he did. As much as he enjoyed the attention it was all he could do to keep from fling Thor into the nearest pillar and strangling him a bit for failing so spectacularly, so _utterly_ , the day previous.

Instead he focused on Jane's small retreating form. Letting their words roll off him like water sloughing from oiled feathers he taunted them, levity and posturing relieving his ire at them.

Later he found it wasn't good for his temper to see her collapse on the ground without the Great Thor even noticing so his words meant to direct the Oaf's attention were rather calloused. Taking his anger out on Thor was a preferential method that was easier to fall back into than he would have liked but it suited his purposes of rhe moment.

When they were finally away he continued to play his part as guide, restraining his more reckless behavior in front of Jane, and to watch her as a hawk did her fledgling on a maiden flight. He might have shown off a bit, not that she was conscious to care, but the exhilaration of the open air and the chase did wonders for his spirits.

He was further impressed that as she once again grew weak not one complaint passed her lips. On the other side of the portal, angry words as usual passed between himself and Thor, but he found himself inexplicably curbing his tongue and extending the peace branch as she stirred at their raised voices.

Watching her curled form at the air ship's prow as they traversed the dark, sterile sand he wondered if all their future efforts would be worth the loss of Mother's - the All-Mother's - passing.

After Thor's words of Frigga and his own reply Loki bent himself to his task, pushing aside soft sentiment at the images of her that rose in his mind's eye. Jane would simply have to bear through her own feelings of guilt, and with it the promise of responsibility such debts demanded in balance. For reasons he couldn't fathom he hoped she accepted the challenge and follow the path that such a sacrifice placed before her.

* * *

AN: I can haz cookie?


End file.
